


What's Left of Your Joy

by lonnoblea



Category: Room of Swords (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, this is honestly a lot of Kodya whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonnoblea/pseuds/lonnoblea
Summary: Kodya thought the green carnations were beautiful.Maybe Gyrus would think so too.
Relationships: Gyrus Alexei/Kodya Karevic
Comments: 22
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New semester, new fic :)

Kodya’s always been good at hiding.

It started when he was a little boy, when he had come home talking animatedly about one of his male peers. His mother laughed along for about a week before she began to grow wary of his obsession. 

“What’s so special about this boy, my darling?”

He smiled at her, bright and innocent.

“Nothing, mom. I just love him!”

She took in his awestruck eyes and the flush of young love painted across his cheeks, and she froze. 

His mother looked grave, the room suddenly frigid and unwelcoming. Kodya didn’t know what was going on but he knew he had made a big mistake when his mother, usually a wealth of warmth and love, retreated downstairs without another word. He balled himself up under his covers when his parents began to yell, their argument echoing throughout the house.

That night his father taught him what would happen to a man who loved another man.

Kodya used snarky comments to breeze past scrutinizing questions, concealed overflowing emotions behind a mask of indifference. He kept his mouth shut and did whatever it took to keep his parents satisfied—no matter how much his friends voiced their concerns.

Kodya was always good at hiding, until that sickly-sweet taste crawled up his throat and he choked on the petals that filled his lungs. It sapped away at his life and anyone who looked him in his sullen eyes knew something was gravely wrong.

Suddenly, Kodya couldn’t hide anymore.

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

“Christ, Kodya! Did you even sleep last night? Is everything okay?”

Nephthys hovered over him with a lunch tray in hand, her face filled with sincerity and concern. Tori followed closely behind her, frowning down at him. Kodya barely bit back the urge to tell her that, _no_ , nothing was okay, he’s been hacking out green carnations over his toilet for the past two weeks because he was madly in love with his best friend.

Tori placed a placating hand on Nephthys back, snorting at Kodya.

“Don’t worry about him. Our golden boy was probably up all night cramming in a project or something. Y’know, the typical.”

Kodya let out an internal sigh of relief. He never thought he’d be grateful for his unhealthy work habits.

“Sleep is for the fucking weak,” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the crusted drool off his chin. He swallowed and cringed, tasting blood at the back of his throat before picking up his fork. Kodya idly pushed around his salad, shoving unwelcome thoughts of green hair and lavender eyes to the back of his head. 

Nephthys frowned—Kodya cursed her perceptiveness—and pushed forward. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You haven’t been quite yourself this past week.” She stopped to contemplate, chewing on her lip before continuing, “Have your parents been giving you shit again?”

Kodya froze, midbite, and Tori dropped her spoon into her canister, suddenly very engaged in the discussion. 

_Shit. Fuck. Code red, code red._

He shrank into himself, uncomfortable and embarrassed, before waving his hands in front of his chest. 

“No, no, no, just a lot of school work lately—exactly what Tori said,” Kodya said smoothly, almost ashamed at how easy it was for him to lie to his friends.

Nephthys visibly relaxed and he smiled, grateful to be out of dangerous waters.

“Well, okay then. What’s been cutting into your beauty sleep?” Nephthys playfully jabbed at him.

“Some annoying analysis on Macbeth.”

He regretted the lie the moment it flew out of his mouth.

“That’s bullshit, I’m in your english class and that essay was due a week ago.”

An all-too-familiar voice cut through their conversation and Kodya froze, his blood turning cold. He dropped his fork and looked up, staring into piercing purple eyes that seemed to bore straight into his soul. He looked away with haste, shying under the presence of wandering eyes, and coughed. The burn in his esophagus grew hotter, brighter, and Kodya swallowed down whatever was trying to climb up his throat.

The table shifted under his body and Kodya realized that Gyrus had pointedly sat down next to him, picking an apple off his own tray and biting into it. 

Gyrus’s arm brushed up against his own and Kodya felt his throat constricting. 

He couldn’t fucking _breathe_.

Nephthys and Tori silently watched the two of them, concern evident on their faces. They looked unsettled at Gyrus’s change of demeanor and Kodya wanted to let out a self-deprecating snort, completely understanding the root of their confusion and fear. Gyrus was always so patient and kind-hearted as if nothing in the world could set him off. 

Well, nothing except Kodya.

Aggression seemed to pool off Gyrus as Kodya refused to respond, instead choosing to stay silent in the thick tension. A part of his mind flared to life, screaming and begging for Kodya to make peace with the green-haired male and Kodya swallowed it down alongside the plant matter that had began to crawl up the walls of his throat.

“Pray tell, Kodya, what _have_ you been doing that’s been taking up all your time?” Gyrus asked, vicious and angry, the question more scrutinizing that curious. Kodya felt his heart crack a little, the itch in his throat ever so strong as he struggled to remain nonchalant under the stress.

He needed to do something before he hacked up a bloody bouquet in front of the entire cafetaria.

Kodya uncapped his bottle and drained it, trying to get rid of the sickly-sweet taste of flowers that had invaded his mouth. He ignored the scathing glare Gyrus sent him as well as the looks of concern from his other friends.

He swallowed a gulp of air.

“Work. I’ve just had a lot of work to do.” Kodya stood up, staring anywhere but at Gyrus. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go to track practice.”

“At least that’s not a lie,” Gyrus bit back at him, ignoring the disapproving look Nephthys shot his way.

Kodya internally suffocated the pathetic flare of satisfaction from the obsessive side of his brain that was pleased at the fact that Gyrus took the time to memorize his schedule. He promptly packed up his lunch and walked away without another word. Every particle in his body begged for him to stop, to fix the wrench he had thrown into their friendship, but Kodya carried on, knowing better than that. The flowers wouldn’t leave unless he got over Gyrus and if anyone found out—if his parents ever found out—he’d have bigger problems to deal with than heartbreak.

He barely made it in time to the bathroom before the green carnations finally climbed out of his mouth.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Kodya couldn’t actually pinpoint the exact moment he fell hard for Gyrus. His throat was tingling and sore for weeks before the carnations appeared.

But he remembered hacking out flowers the night he stumbled onto Gyrus’s door—drunk and babbling nonsense about his family and the monumental pressure on his shoulders. He talked about disappointment and rejection, about love and emptiness—how the world will never have a place for someone like him.

Gyrus looked at him with a patient smile, spoke to Kodya with a low, soothing voice but his eyes betrayed his grief. 

Gyrus told him he was loved, he was cherished. He held him tightly, arms wrapped securely around Kodya’s trembling frame, and whispered into his ear that he was deserving of all the good in the world.

And for once in his life, for a moment trapped in time, Kodya believed him.

That was when it manifested in his chest and crawled up his throat, pressing up against the walls of his esophagus and he choked. Kodya fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and retched. Gyrus assumed he was vomiting the alcohol out of his system and Kodya thought so too, until something soft made its way up his throat and he caught it in his palms. 

He stared in horror at the bloody carnation.

Kodya only ever been told children’s tales of rejected lovers and the flowers that climbed out of their throats. But that’s what he had thought they were. _Tales_.

Turns out he was wrong.

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“You were off your game today. Having trouble with your newest boy toy?”

He cursed, he stopped one too many times today to catch his breath through his impaired windpipe but Kodya thought he had been subtle.

_Apparently not enough._

Kodya grit his teeth, slamming his locker shut a bit too hard. He was already exhausted, sweaty and stressed. Now he had to deal with this. 

He whirled around on the opposing student—some dick named Kent that he used to date back in the ninth grade. Nothing ended civilly and for someone who proposed the idea of splitting up first, Kent was obsessive in his pursuit to make Kodya’s life a living hell.

“Fuck off, I don’t have the patience for whatever you have to say today.” Kodya cringed at his own tone, coming out harsher than intended but he really just wanted to go home to crawl under his covers and sob out petals in the peace of his bedroom.

The other boy threw his hands up in front of him, as if the gesture would placate Kodya rather than rile him up.

“Woah there, star player, I was just worried, that’s all.” He smirked like a little dipshit and Kodya clenched his fist that shook in unbridled anger, struggling to keep his own emotions at bay. “Y’know? For the sake of the team.”

Kodya snapped.

“Well if you’re worried for the team, maybe the first person you should be consulting is yourself,” Kodya jabbed viciously, turning around to leave before Kent caught his wrist. 

“Let go—”

“Gyrus was here today,” Kent stared at Kodya, eyes intense and grip unrelenting. Kodya began to realize the gravity of the situation, “sitting on the bleachers and watching you like some lovesick puppy.”

He felt the return of the itch in his throat at the mention of Gyrus. 

“What’s it to you?” Kodya shot back. He jerked his wrist out of the other man’s grasp, finally deciding he was done with the world’s bullshit for the day.

Kent grabbed the front of Kodya’s shirt and slammed him against the locker before Kodya could react—the back of his head made painful contact with the metal surface. He grunted, dazed and stunned. Kodya’s hand flew up to clutch Kent’s wrist, more out of instinct than thought, too shocked to throw the man off of him.

“This is what you always do right? Lead them on and then drop them—crying about how it’s because mommy and daddy will never accept this side of you,” Kent hissed, right up against Kodya’s face and, suddenly, he was spurred into action, irritation finally bubbling past his breaking point.

_How fucking dare he._

“Holy shit, get off! _You_ were the one who broke up with me, in case you don’t fucking remember,” Kodya snarled, limbs sparking to life. He began to struggle and push against the looming male, blinking back furious tears and swallowing down the overbearing sting in his throat.

Kodya felt the blinding pain of the punch against his cheek before he even realized Kent hit him. For the first time in the past two weeks, the metallic taste on his tongue didn’t belong to his flowers.

_That motherfucker._

“I can’t believe I ever loved you! You used me, then broke my fucking heart and pranced around with other men like a fucking slut!”

Kodya was speechless because he knew with immeasurable shame that a part of it was true. There was a time where he was angry at the world—at his parents and his life—boundless amounts of dissatisfaction that he had any man who would have him. Kodya went limp for a moment, devoid of all resistance. 

Until he felt the other man relax against him and that was when he struck.

Kodya brought his knee up with all the force he could manage against Kent’s balls and the man crumpled, clutching his crotch in agony. Kodya felt a sadistic flare of pleasure in his chest. 

“Don’t pretend you know shit about me.”

He grabbed his bag and left the locker room, trembling and nauseous. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It was unrealistic, _God_ , he knew it was utterly impossible.

Everything hurts.

Kodya didn’t understand why he fell in love with Gyrus, knowing the man was too good for him. But the flowers kept coming, forcing their way up his throat. They tasted metallic and bitter, smelling sweet and floral when they left his mouth.

He told himself that the only way to avoid imminent death was to get over him, that someone like Gyrus would never love him. Yet petals continued to tickle his throat, roots squeezing his lungs.

Kodya didn’t know why he couldn’t move on.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Kodya should’ve known, should’ve expected it because the world seemed godawfully keen on tormenting him. The moment he exited the school, stumbling over his own two legs, he heard the rev of a car engine.

“Kodya!”

Fuck.

Kodya groaned, watching helplessly as the yellow vehicle rolled up beside him. Gyrus leaned out the window and waved at Kodya, beckoning him to come closer. His throat prickled and Kodya debated about sprinting in the opposite direction—he was the school’s trackstar after all—but upon taking a step away from the car, his knees nearly buckled from an intense wave of nausea. 

He heard the slam of a car door and Kodya wordlessly glanced up, truly looking at Gyrus for the first time since that fateful night. Gyrus seemed exhausted, dark circles defined underneath his eyes, and Kodya felt a pang of guilt, having driven the other man up walls with his sudden and abrupt withdrawal.

“We need to talk, Kodya, get into the car.”

Kodya didn’t say anything, he didn’t trust himself to open his mouth without littering green petals all over the floor.

But when Kodya refused to budge, adamantly staying in his spot, Gyrus let out a sigh of unadulterated exasperation as if he was dealing with a particularly petulant child. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes tired and sad and Kodya felt his throat tighten a bit more.

“I swear to God, I will drag you kicking and screaming if I have to.”

Kodya knew a genuine threat when he heard one. He swallowed down the plant matter and nodded, taking in a shaky breath before following Gyrus back to his car.

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Kodya was never one to be jealous. He thought himself to be calm and level-headed when it really mattered. 

But Gyrus looked so _happy_ with Tori clinging onto his side, the two whispering and giggling as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. They were so content and Kodya stifled down that ugly, desperate cry from inside his chest. 

Maybe he had spent too long in his head dreaming up a timeline where Gyrus fell in love with him instead. The world bit him harsher than it would’ve if Kodya had accepted reality as what it should be, because at the end of the day, Gyrus was Gyrus and Kodya was Kodya—as if someone so perfect and whole would ever settle for a fragmented walking disaster.

Tori whispers something into his ear and Gyrus erupts into laughter, his smile so bright and wide enough to crinkle his eyes.

Kodya bit his lip, his heart throbbing painfully.

Ah, geez, his throat hurt.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Kodya idly chewed on a petal, lathering his taste buds with a concoction of sweet and bitter. His mind was racing, his throat itched like never before and Kodya had given up stifling his coughs when it became apparent that Gyrus was quite literally driving them to the middle of nowhere. 

He stared outside at the passing trees, the city slowly becoming country and thought about the conversation they would be having if Gyrus wasn’t so murderously furious at him.

The plains turned into thick forest and Kodya was really beginning to wonder if he did push Gyrus too far. As the green-haired male pulled over into an unfamiliar dirt road, Kodya momentarily forgot about the flowers lodged in his mouth in favour of momentary panic.

_Holy crap, Gyrus is actually going to murder me because I ignored him for fourteen consecutive days._

Kodya felt his throat constrict under the tense silence, his air passages filling with flowers. He coughed into his elbow as he struggled to even his breathing. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gyrus eyeing him with unvoiced concern. Kodya swallowed the carnations down, coughing spare petals into his palm before shoving them as subtly as he could into his pockets.

“I’m not going to yell at you,” Gyrus began and Kodya jumped in his seat, startled, “keep in mind that I want to but I won’t. Nephthys says you’re going through some things.”

_Well, that was an understatement._

Gyrus turned towards him, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, and frowned.

“Wait, what the fuck happened to your face?”

Ah, Kodya was wondering when the bruise was going to form.

“I fell,” he replied flatly, rubbing self-consciously at the swelling skin.

“You fell?” Gyrus repeated incredulously. “You fucking fell? Are you really going to try this with me right now? I—”

Gyrus cut himself off, drawing a deep breath in an attempt to contain his anger, before trying again.

“What’s going on, Kodya? Why have you been avoiding me?” Gyrus asked, his face stony and his eyes trained on the road but the waver in his voice exposed him.

Gyrus was hurt.

Kodya choked under the onslaught of guilt and adoration—emotions so profoundly powerful washed over him and his throat felt like it was on fire. After everything he’s done, after all the pain he’s caused, he didn’t deserve this man. Kodya bit his lip, harsh enough to draw blood. 

Gyrus stared at him, his face an open book full of earnest and sincere concern.

“Please, Kodya. Just tell me why.”

_Because I’m so madly in love with you and it’s physically killing me._

There was a presence in the back of his throat, a pressure that expanded and pushed and he gagged.

“I’m _so_ sorry.”

He erupted into a coughing fit, and, suddenly, his throat was _burning_ , closing up and Kodya gasped, desperately swallowing air that just wouldn’t reach his lungs. Flowers were growing rapidly in his chest, pressing up against the walls of his esophagus and choking him. He collapsed into himself in a manner of shaking limbs and wretched gurgles—clawing at his throat.

Kodya felt himself lurch forward as Gyrus slammed his foot on the brake.

Kodya undid his seatbelt, opened the door and got about five feet away from the car before he vomited the contents of his stomach onto the ground. Green carnations splattered against the floor and they kept coming and coming and Kodya still couldn’t fucking _breathe_. He didn’t know when he started sobbing, only noticing when his cheeks felt as warm and wet as his blood-covered hands that clutched at his mouth—trying to contain the flowers and utterly failing. There was blood dribbling down his chin, a vivid splash of red staining the front of his shirt and Kodya would’ve fallen into an exhausted heap if Gyrus hadn’t been there to catch him.

It was silent for a minute or two, Kodya’s frame trembled as he tried to catch his breath. He clung onto the front of Gyrus’s jacket like it was a lifeline. The black spots that had infiltrated his vision swam away as Kodya regained his breath and he finally registered that Gyrus was shaking as violently as he was.

“Who?”

Gyrus’s voice was quiet, quivering with poorly contained anger, his hands turning white where they clenched tightly against Kodya’s jacket. 

He let himself sob, let himself be swept up in Gyrus’s arms for just this moment. His entire world was falling apart and the secret—the secret he tried so desperately to keep—was unveiling before his very eyes to the last person he wanted to tell.

“Gyrus, please, I can’t—”

“Who? Who the fuck is it?”

Kodya buried his face in Gyrus’s chest, letting his tears freely soak the fabric. He couldn’t do this to him, couldn’t drag Gyrus further into his own mess. 

“I can’t, I just can’t tell you.”

Gyrus opened his mouth and Kodya intercepts before he could say more.

“Please, please just take me home. I just want to go home,” Kodya pleads— _begs_ —and he’s never felt so miserable and pathetic in his entire life.

And maybe it was the feeble waver in his voice or his blood-crusted face, so screwed up in exhaustion and sorrow like all the tragedies in the world had painted themselves in his features, but Gyrus just nods—any semblance of anger gone. The taste of metal coated his tongue, there were petals clinging onto his clothes and dangling from his lips. Kodya cursed Gyrus for being so perfect, for being so amazing that it was impossible for him to fall out of love.

“Okay,” Gyrus whispers, hugging Kodya tightly against his chest and Kodya sobs even harder, “let’s go home.”

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Gyrus drove them to his own house and Kodya couldn’t find it in himself to particularly care.

He wordlessly walked upstairs and locked himself in Gyrus’s bathroom, collapsing beside the toilet. It hit him hard. Somewhere between the vomiting and Gyrus’s concerned fretting, Kodya began to suspect that the flowers were a part of him now. The pain felt so frequent and familiar that he couldn’t remember a time where he was flower-free. His chest heaved with violent, racking coughs and an endless stream of carnations descended from his mouth. 

Kodya desperately swallowed needed air when the flowers finally ceased, rubbing the blood and spit away with the back of his hand. He sobbed, pressing his cheek against the cold porcelain of the toilet seat. There was a lingering, bone-deep exhaustion and a constant stinging, ache in his throat. Kodya gave up on the idea of getting better, he silently begged the world to just take him now rather than draw out this torment. 

A hand rubbed soothing circles into his back and he jumped, startled. In the commotion, Kodya hadn’t noticed when Gyrus unlocked the door and stepped in.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s just me.”

Kodya looked up into his eyes—impossibly earnest and apologetically sad—and felt a planter’s worth of flowers climbing up his throat. His heart lurched, longing for a man who couldn’t possibly love him back. Gyrus, who he had known for nearly his entire life, would never see him in the same light that Kodya saw him in. 

Then the realization hit him like a freight train. 

It was always Gyrus. Ever since he was a little boy, it had always been Gyrus. It was his wide grin that made Kodya’s heart flutter, his light teasing that made him stammar and blush. Throughout all these years, they had developed a connection that Gyrus had only seen as strictly platonic but Kodya had valued as so much more. 

He couldn’t recall a time where he was _not_ in love with Gyrus.

That was when Kodya knew.

He was going to die loving Gyrus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys! School's been overwhelming but I finally got time to write during quarantine ;).

The worst part of it all was the dreams. 

Sometimes they were nightmares and other times they were glimpses into a fantasy so golden that Kodya never wanted to wake up.

The nightmares all started the same way—they all started that same night. The sky was thundering, the frigid air was numbing against his heated, wet skin. Kodya stumbled down the road, limbs swaying and vision impaired, and always found himself at Gyrus’s doorstep—a malicious fabrication of a cherished memory. The door swung open, unprompted, and Gyrus would flash him his most brilliant smile. Kodya choked down the blooming warmth in his chest. He felt safe with Gyrus.

Yet it was all a lie, a false lull of security to tear him down to the most vulnerable, fleshy bits of himself and that was when the true nightmare would strike. 

They were vivid, horrendous visions of blood and entrails—Gyrus would plead with him, beg him to stop and Kodya could only stare in horror at his own hands, slick with green petals and blood.

_Tell me what it is, tell me how to stop it_ , Kodya would beg, his voice growing in desperation as Gyrus grew pale, _I didn’t want to hurt you!_

Gyrus would draw a shuddering breath before going limp.

Kodya never failed to wake up in a mess of carnations and sweat.

The nightmares were awful.

But they were nothing compared to the dreams.

Kodya and Gyrus locked in each other's arms, their limbs tangled beneath soft bed sheets. The sun streamed warm and pleasant on their faces, birds singing delicate songs in the early morning. There was a gentle prod on his shoulder, a small huff of laughter next to his ear. Kodya would blink his bleary eyes into focus, silently cursing at Gyrus’s earlybird energy until Gyrus fixed him with a smile so tender and earnest that a lovely warmth spread across his cheeks. The next part was his favourite, where Gyrus would lean in and kiss him so gently and affectionately, Gyrus’s hand cupping his jaw and rubbing circles into his cheekbone. The future seemed meaningless right there and then—and, _God_ , what Kodya would do to make that present infinite.

He tends to wake up from those dreams with petals bubbling past his lips and fresh, new tears streaming down his face.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Kodya woke up, his face pressed against soft fabric. 

  
His entire body ached, muscles tense and sore. Kodya rubbed the crust out of his eyes, frowning at the feeling of heated skin and swollen eyelids. His skin felt sticky with sweat, his shirt clung uncomfortably against his torso. Everything was too warm. Everything was too bright. 

Kodya smacked his lips and grimaced. 

His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. 

Dazed, he pushed himself off the bed—only to realize that he couldn’t get up. Limbs locked themselves against his abdomen and he felt himself flop back onto the mass of blankets. A body wrapped around his back, their face nuzzling into his hair. Arms tightened their grip across his chest as they resettled back into bed and the flare of panic in Kodya’s chest grew even brighter.

It would be safe to say that Kodya freaked the fuck out.

“Hooooly crap, stop fucking moving,” a familiar voice groaned against his scalp, sending pleasent vibrations against his skin.

Kodya froze, suddenly very aware of his surroundings.

He was in Gyrus’s room. He was _in_ Gyrus’s bed. Gyrus was _cuddling_ him.

And Kodya realized with dawning horror that his pants were gone, his shirt new and clean.

Gyrus had stripped him to his boxers and changed him.

The signature itch returned, its presence settling dangerously in his throat. The next few seconds were a frenzy of limbs, a tousling of blankets and pillows—Gyrus dismayed groans filled the air alongside Kodya’s distressed sputtering. His airways tightened the harder Gyrus clung onto him, a dull burn began in the back of his throat. Kodya finally tumbled gracelessly off the bed, arms and legs scrambling backwards until he made painful contact with the door. His chest heaved from panic and exertion, he shot Gyrus a wide-eyed stare only to be met with tired discontent.

Gyrus pouted and Kodya felt his blood boil, anger thrumming hotly in his chest.

“What the actual fuck, Gyrus!”

Gyrus blinked at him from his place on his bed, his green hair messy and askew from the commotion.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Kodya stifled his rising adoration in favour of unruly, indignant frustration.

“You can’t jus—” he sputtered, seemingly at loss for words. He felt a tell-tale warmth spread up his neck, his ears burning with embarrassment. His hands waved frantically in front of him. “The whole thing! It was just—y’know!”

Gyrus broke out his most shit-eating grin and Kodya wanted to throttle him.

“Know what?” His tone was light— _teasing_ —and if Kodya was a lesser man, he would’ve taken it for flirting.

Kodya bit his lip and looked away, humiliation colouring his cheeks. Gyrus was having way too much fun.

“I—Nevermind.”

Gyrus slipped out of the bed and settled beside him. Kodya stiffened, his limbs locking themselves in place as Gyrus’s arm brushed up against his own. Last night’s tension hadn’t dispersed at all and Kodya felt every bit of it, thick and looming. Gyrus let out a tired sigh, the content smile slipping off his face as he leaned heavily against the wall. Kodya swallowed down his nerves. The silence would’ve been suffocating if he wasn’t already choking on the forming flower petals.

Before Kodya could further wallow in his own thoughts, Gyrus spoke up.

“Do your parents know?”

Kodya jumped before letting out a short, bitter laugh. Gyrus frowned.

“ _God_ , no. C’mon, Gyrus, you know how they are,” Kodya said helplessly. “After all the shit I pulled off this year, it’s like walking on glass around them and they won’t stop badgering me—y’know about all the drinking and sleeping around.”

He let out a humourless chuckle, allowing himself to drown under a potent wave of self-pity. Anger bubbled violently under his skin.

“Everytime we talk, we argue and they just love to remind me about how much of a fucking disappointment I turned out to be like I wasn’t already excruciatingly aware!”

Kodya bit his lip, his vision blurry and his eyes burning. He felt Gyrus shift next to him before an arm slung around his shoulders and Kodya found himself locked in a tight embrace. The burn in his throat flared back to life and he could feel the flowers forming in his throat, a tight pressure against his esophagus that interfered with his breathing. Yet he still buried his face into the material of Gyrus’s shirt, allowing a selfish part of him to have this moment. 

Kodya drew a shaky breath before continuing,

“Besides, I don’t think they want a reminder about how undeniably gay their only son is.”

Kodya heard a sharp intake of air before looking up. 

Gyrus seemed pained, his fingers twitched and his mouth opened slightly ajar as if he had something to say but couldn’t bring himself to utter anything. Kodya stifled down the twisted satisfaction he felt from rendering Gyrus silent in favour of just feeling like utter crap.

Gyrus took his hand, squeezing gently.

“Kodya, this is—” Gyrus paused, at a loss for wording, “the flower, the _blood_ —this is really serious. You can’t possibly be thinking about hiding this forever.”

Kodya looked away, shame written into his features. The gravity of the situation seemed even more dire when Gyrus acknowledged it. He let out a small sigh, picking restlessly at the hem of his shirt. 

“I know.” He coughed out green, delicate petals into the air and Gyrus managed to look even more concerned. “ _Fuck,_ do I know. It’s just—”

Kodya bit the inside of his cheek, worrying at the skin until the metallic taste of blood coated his taste buds. His fingers dug into his knees and he felt himself slip under a barrage of grief. Gyrus shifted beside him.

“Hey, Kodya, it’s okay. You can tell me anything.” 

There was a pressure on his shoulder—Gyrus’s hand squeezed reassuringly and Kodya stilled before continuing.

“They already hate me so much, Gyrus. I hate them too but I still want them to love me. Isn’t that fucked up?”

“Kodya—”

“No! No, just listen please. I keep thinking, maybe if I didn’t come out messed up, if I just tried dating a girl, all of this would go away. But I can’t, Gyrus, I just can’t. It wasn’t my choice to be born this way, I didn’t mean to come out wrong!”

“Stop— _listen_ —”

“I—” Kodya dug his nails into the meat of his arms, his fingernails leaving deep, angry crescents. Panic bubbled up in his chest and his eyes searched frantically around the room. There wasn’t enough air, Kodya couldn’t fucking _breathe_. His chest rose and fell sporadically, his mouth agape and swallowing desperate breaths, “I can’t—”

And, suddenly, there were hands framing his face, Gyrus was kneeling by his legs and staring intently at him—eyes endlessly searching and furious with determination. Kodya swallowed down the onslaught of petals.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

Kodya opened his mouth, ready to throw contradictions at Gyrus’s statement.

“But—”

“ _No_.” Gyrus fixed him down with a resolute stare, his voice hard and absolute. Kodya tried to turn his face away to hide from Gyrus’s withering gaze but the smaller male tightened his grip, his fingers almost digging painfully into Kodya’s cheek. They basked in the silence as Gyrus glowered at Kodya, almost as if he was daring him to answer. Kodya shut his mouth, his teeth producing an audible click. Gyrus’s eyes immediately softened, his hold on Kodya’s face became tender. When he spoke next, his tone was low and sweet, “No, Kodya, you’re kind and brave and so fucking strong. They don’t know what they’re talking about, they don’t know you like I know you.”

Kodya began to shake and Gyrus stopped in the middle of his speech to press a gentle kiss in the middle of his forehead. Kodya’s mouth fell agape, words flooded behind his lips but he shut it upon looking at Gyrus’s face. He looked so furious yet soft and inviting, fiercely protective and slightly unhinged. Kodya’s heart throbbed at the sight. Gyrus was angry because of him— _no_ , he was angry _for_ him.

“You didn’t come out wrong, you’re perfect—you’re _you._ ”

Kodya hadn’t registered that he was sobbing until Gyrus softly wiped away his tears with the pad of his thumb. His breath hitched, the action was so tender and intimate and he stifled the raw emotion that flared up in his chest. Kodya didn’t know how long they stayed like that, locked in each other's embrace. The only sounds that filled the room were Kodya’s harsh breathing and Gyrus’s gentle coos. 

“Is it painful?”

He looked up. There was an unfathomable sadness in Gyrus’s eyes and Kodya was so swept up in a sudden onslaught of guilt that the question was lost in his mind. Gyrus cleared his throat, and Kodya blinked before realizing that Gyrus was waiting for an answer. 

“Huh?”

“The flowers,” Gyrus clarified, gesturing to Kodya’s throat. “Do they hurt?”

“Oh.” He pressed his palm against his throat. “It just burns. A lot.”

Gyrus rubbed his thumb against Kodya’s cheek, his face flickering with unreadable emotion. Kodya held his breath, stilling in the thick silence. Gyrus seemed conflicted, uncertain of where to take this situation.

“Okay,” Gyrus drew a deep, steadying breath, “okay.”

“We’ll go about this however you want to,” Gyrus said, stilling and contemplating before adding, “just don’t cut me out again. Keep me updated.”

“Yeah.”

There was a pressure on his knee, gentle and tender.

“I’m here for you, Kodya, please don’t forget that.”

Kodya swallowed down the clump of petals forming in his throat before coughing awkwardly into his palm. Gyrus stared at him expectantly.

“Yeah, of course.”

He shot him a small, nervous smile and Gyrus grinned—seemingly relieved. Gyrus pushed himself up and offered Kodya his hand. He took it gratefully and Gyrus hauled him up.

Kodya frowned at the chilly air.

“Oh—wait—Gyrus?”

“Yeah?”  
  


“Where are my pants?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

This was one of his favourite memories, when the Hanahaki disease had just begun to take root in his lungs.

Kodya was angry. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember a time where he _wasn’t_ angry, when he wasn’t cursing his rotten luck and the people around him. It was a relentless, steel-hot burn that simmered beneath his skin—poorly contained frustration that evolved into spite. The world was a ruthless monster and Kodya was helpless to it all. Sometimes it was too much, it was an overwhelming surge of anger that threatened to consume him whole and Kodya felt powerless to its pursuit of dominance. Kodya was in a constant battle for his mind and he was on the losing side.

It was exhausting and Kodya wondered how easy it would be to just give up.

Maybe it was his unusual moody demeanor that beckoned Gyrus over or it could’ve been Gyrus being Gyrus but Kodya was startled yet not unpleased at the sudden presence at his side. Gyrus slid up against Kodya, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

Kodya’s heart throbbed and, for a moment in time, his mind slipped away from its worries.

“Hey, Kodya, repeat after me.”

He raised his eyebrow but nodded nonetheless, deciding to play along with whatever the other man was up to. Gyrus smiled, delighted.

“Eumgyeong.”

Kodya rolled his eyes and repeated after Gyrus, wrapping his mouth awkwardly around the foreign word.

_“Eumg-yeong_.”

Gyrus’s eyes sparkled in poorly-contained glee.

“It means amazing in Korean.”

Kodya let out a snort. He slowly, slowly smiled.

“Bullshit, your dad already pulled this one on me. You should’ve seen your mom’s face when I told her I was a _penis_.”

Gyrus laughed—full and earnest—and Kodya held his breath, drinking in the beauty of the sound. His toothy grin was warming, it felt as if there were a flurry of restless butterflies in Kodya’s stomach.

_Maybe things are okay right now._

Gyrus smiled at him—brilliant and dazzling—and Kodya felt an unusual flare in his chest. His cheeks felt too warm, his chest a little too tight. Gyrus shook with laughter, stiffling his giggles with his fist, completely unaware of Kodya’s inner turmoil. 

His parents would be furious if he let his obsessions carry on, but he didn’t care. 

Kodya had already decided that love would be the sweetest downfall.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“It’s Gyrus, isn’t it?”

Kodya startled, whirling around to see Nephthys in a hall he thought to be empty. Gyrus had driven them to school with a promise to pick him up later after classes had finished. Kodya nearly objected but the determined look on Gyrus’s face gave no room for protest. 

He chuckled, his nerves beginning to fray.

“Um, sorry, what?”

“The flowers. Gyrus told me about them.”

His blood ran cold, mouth dropping by pure instinct for a rebuttal, but Kodya paused, seeing no use denying it anymore. 

“Ah.” He breathed, tense under the silence that followed suit.

He offered no response, nothing to elaborate. Nephthys frowned and pushed forward, firm and unrelenting. 

“It’s him, isn’t it? The flowers, I mean, they’re Gyrus’s.”

“I…” Kodya paused, at a loss for words. He had an inkling that no matter what he said, Nephthys already knew the truth. She had come to confront him rather than to confirm suspicions, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

He laughed without humour, the sound coming out harsh and empty.

“Is it that obvious?”

Nephthys’s eyes softened, sympathy etched itself into her features and Kodya nearly recoiled, not wanting to be at the end of someone’s pity. He bit his lip, turning his head away. Kodya felt the familiar burn of shame crawl up his neck and paint his cheeks.

“The carnations being green was a huge giveaway.” She laughed, attempting to lighten the mood and Kodya felt his chest lighten.

The smile didn’t leave her face as she stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Kodya’s shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him in a loose hug. He tensed but eventually melted into her embrace. She smelt like cinnamon, like the passing thought of a warm home. 

She hummed, low and smoothing, and tightened her hold around his body.

“Oh, Kodya,” she whispered and Kodya could barely hear her over the buzz of the school heaters in the vacant hallway. “You have to tell him.”

“I can’t, I can’t lose him, Neph.”

He hugged her back tightly, begging the prickle of tears to dissipate. Kodya was so afraid, so very pathetically aware that he’d fall apart without Gyrus. The uncomfortable flush of embarrassment was lost to him under a powerful surge of sorrow. He let his tears freely flow onto the soft fabric of Nephthys’s clothes.

Kodya drew a shaky breath. A single petal fell between his lips.

“He isn’t like the others, I don’t know how I’ll manage without him.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“Why do I feel this need to be loved?”

He had just gotten through a bad breakup, the remnants of their argument drifting hazardously in his mind. Kodya was in a daze, his thoughts askew like scattered paper. There was a dull throb on his cheek, dry tears on his skin. Kodya idly wondered how long it would take for the bruise to disappear. Would it leave its mark on his skin for weeks? Would he wake up everyday, look in the mirror and remember? 

What would his parents think?

He swallowed and grimaced. His mouth felt like sandpaper. 

He didn’t know where he was. The thigh beneath his head was comfortable and warm. Kodya slid closer to the body above him. He heard a sigh that sounded muffled as if his eardrums were stuffed full of cotton. It was numbing in this state and everything drifted around him as a hazy mass.

Everything except Gyrus. 

There was a slow exhale of air. Kodya looked up. Gyrus’s eyes were sad.

“Because you’ve never had it, never tasted what love is supposed to really feel like,” Gyrus began, idly twirling the strands of Kodya’s hair. 

He stared off into the distance, taking his eyes off Kodya but Kodya continued to observe. Gyrus’s skin was tinted by the sun, his jawline prominent and Kodya wondered what it would feel like to bite at it. Gyrus leaned down and Kodya froze. He could feel a puff of warmth spread across his nose from Gyrus’s mouth. His vivid, lavender eyes locked onto Kodya’s. 

There was an unusual but not unwelcome intensity between them.

“It’s natural for us to seek things that are missing in our lives.”

Kodya couldn’t breathe. This moment was special, something he’d never experienced with any past partners. It was _intimate_.

Gyrus backed off and Kodya nearly whimpered at the loss of contact. There was a delicious flush creeping up Gyrus’s neck, his ears already a blazing pink. Gyrus smiled and Kodya stilled at the sheer beauty of it. 

“It’s because you deserve nothing less but love”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you thought about this chapter :))!!


	3. Chapter 3

Gyrus found him after school sprinting laps around the football field. 

His legs burned from underuse and his socks were drenched but Kodya was ecstatic nonetheless. His chest heaved with air, a pleasant experience that Kodya hadn’t felt in months. He almost felt a sense of euphoria as his feet planted on the wet grass—dewy from the morning drizzle—and the spring wind whipped through his hair. The grin on his face was so wide it was almost painful, his nerves were singing.

The feeling was short-lived. As soon as he caught a glimpse of Gyrus, his throat tightened. Suddenly air wasn’t filling his lungs as freely.

He jogged over to where Gyrus was waiting, relishing in the familiar ache in his muscles. He stopped in front of the other man before hunching over to catch his breath, shaking the droplets of sweat off his hair. Something wet and cold pressed against his hand. Gyrus wiggled his water bottle enticingly and Kodya took it, taking a long, grateful gulp.

A stream of icy water filled his throat as Kodya chugged it down, almost forgetting to breathe as he downed the whole bottle.

He returned the empty container to Gyrus and wiped the excess fluid off his chin. 

“Thanks.”

Gyrus nodded, holding his gaze for a moment too long before clearing his throat. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he answered, a little breathless. 

A smirk tugged at the corners of Gyrus’s lips and Kodya smiled back, helpless. 

Gyrus was too good to him, stuck with him through thick or thin and Kodya still couldn’t understand why. He was a disaster, a disappointment on shaky legs—how could anyone as radiant as Gyrus put up with all his bullshit? From the drinking to the sleeping to the constant cold shoulder, Kodya was always a bit worried that Gyrus would finally call it quits one day. Honestly, Kodya wouldn’t be able to bring himself to be mad or even surprised if he did.

Gyrus wrapped his fingers around his wrist and Kodya snapped out of his thoughts.

His head felt light, his throat a little too tight and heated. 

Gyrus offered a shy smile, tugging lightly on Kodya’s arm.

“Alright then. Let’s go, Kodya.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Gyrus’s mother had allowed the boy a sleepover on his tenth birthday and the only person he invited was Kodya. The two had been inseparable the moment they met so none of their other friends took offence to his decision. The pair stuck together like glue, refusing to sit apart in class or make new friends without the company of the other. Everyone around them came to understand that Kodya and Gyrus had a special type of bond and children, being children, weren’t bothered by the fact that the sleepover invitation only extended to Kodya.

After the party had ended, everyone’s parents had arrived to pick up their children before the sun dipped completely out of the sky.

When Tori, the last guest, said her goodbyes, Gyrus grabbed Kodya’s hand and pulled him upstairs to his bedroom, all while shouting his glee. 

Kodya grinned, Gyrus’s excitement was contagious.

That evening was a blur of childish games, harmless teasing and shared rambles—they were memories that Kodya would definitely savour and revisit. They had been sprinting after each other for the past hour or so before Gyrus’s mother called them in after it began to rain, chastising the state of their dirtied clothes. Kodya mumbled a bashful apology as Gyrus hid his grin.

The tell-tale scent of a storm wafted through the open windows and Kodya glanced at the glass. The initial joy that bubbled within Kodya quickly diminished and was replaced by growing fear when dark, looming clouds rolled onto the sky. 

But Kodya swallowed it down, not wanting to spoil Gyrus’s joy. 

The storm reached its height around midnight—which was coincidentally around the time Gyrus began to nod off, his excitement finally dying down under exhaustion. The rain was an unrelenting patter against the window, the wind howling like a fierceful banshee.

A thin sheen of sweat covered Kodya’s skin and he moved about restlessly in the bed, uncomfortable and afraid.

Gyrus was asleep and unmoving beside him, having said his goodnight to Kodya a couple of hours ago. Kodya studied the rise and fall of his chest—the soothing tranquility of his sleeping face—and he felt his own heart begin to slow, the panic easing out of his limbs. His breathing steadied, his eyelids felt heavy. He began to succumb to the lull of sleep.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and a flash of brilliant, white light filled the room. He was wrenched violently from his momentary haze of peace, terror filling the entirety of his being.

Kodya clenched his eyes shut, his fingers gripping tightly in the bedsheets. A whimper fell out of mouth.

Something latched around his hand and he almost let out a terrified shriek until he realized what had grabbed him.

Or, rather, _who_ had grabbed him. 

Warm fingers wrapped steadily around his wrist and Kodya felt the bed dip underneath him as Gyrus shuffled closer. Kodya bit his lip, urging the familiar burn in his eyes to dissipate. He knew Gyrus wasn’t the type of person to judge him but an irrational part of his mind was still mortified. What kind of boy breaks down from a bit of loud noise?

“Kodya?”

An earnest, tending gaze locked onto Kodya’s frantic stare. Gyrus’s eyes glowed a soothing purple in the dark. He had rolled over to his side, his green hair plastered over the youthful chub of his cheeks.

Kodya was entranced, momentarily forgetting about the storm.

“Are you scared of the thunderstorm, Kodya?” Gyrus whispered, a worried tint colouring his sentence.

He opened his mouth, prepared to lie until the loud, crashing sound of thunder followed by a bright flash of light made him burrow himself under the blanket in a state of undeniable fear.

“I, uh—” another rumble of thunder and Kodya tugged the blanket closer against his body, “y-yeah, maybe.”

Gyrus seemed contemplative and Kodya held his breath. 

“Do you want to go home?”

Kodya thought about it. His mother’s arms were his typical comfort for nights such as these but he didn’t want to leave Gyrus. It was his birthday after all—what kind of friend would Kodya be if he left? Kodya bit his lip, uncertain of what decision to make. Would Gyrus mind if he left? Did he, himself, even want to leave?

Gyrus squeezed his hand reassuringly and he squeezed back.

“N-no, not really.”

He grinned, toothy and bright, and Kodya couldn’t help the shy smile that tugged at his lips.

“That’s great! Would it help if I closed my blinds?”

Kodya flushed, grateful for the dark.

“Yeah, I think so.”

When Gyrus returned to the bed, he lightly tugged at the top of the blanket until Kodya felt the cold air envelop his clammy skin. He resettled into the bed, shuffling closer to Kodya than he was before.

“Do you want to hold hands?”

He flexed his hand in front of Kodya’s face. Kodya swallowed before hesitantly lacing his sweaty fingers with Gyrus’s.

Gyrus hummed, content, before letting out a large yawn. Kodya immediately felt a pang of guilt.

“Sorry about this, Gyrus,” he mumbled. Gyrus waved the apology off.

“Don’t worry! It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. My cousin has an awful time dealing with storms too.”

“But,” he bit his lip, “don’t you think it’s kind of lame to be scared of thunder?”

Gyrus shook his head profusely. He gave Kodya an exaggerated pout and Kodya let out a tiny giggle. 

“Kodya, you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met! I don’t think anything you do can be lame.”

Kodya stared at him, wide-eyed. Warmth plastered itself across his cheeks.

“You really mean it?”

“Mhm!”

Kodya felt his chest constrict, an odd but not unwelcome feeling spread throughout him. His breath hitched, he felt too warm. Once he was sure Kodya was comfortable, Gyrus yawned once more and closed his eyes, his grip on Kodya’s hand loosening but not withdrawing. This time he didn’t open them again. 

Kodya stared idly at the ceiling with a sense of tranquility. The space between their palms was unpleasantly clammy and warm but he didn’t let go. He let the air flow freely in and out of his lungs, the built-up tension from before began to ease out of his limbs. His eyelids felt heavy, the pelting rain sounded hazy and distant. 

Gyrus was breathing calmly beside him, his presence a grounding force. 

It was still thundering outside but Kodya couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


It was drizzling when Gyrus drove him home. 

Kodya leaned his head against the window, the descending raindrops brought upon a sense of haunting nostalgia. Nothing much was exchanged between the two, but the tension that had once hung heavily between them nearly dissipated. It was a comfortable silence, one that arose from a life-long friendship rather than conflict.

The closer they drove to his house, the stronger the sense of dread that had made a home in his stomach became. His absence from the last day hadn’t been authorised and his silenced phone had been flooded with increasingly aggravated messages from his mom. There were even a handful of calls from his dad which was never a good thing.

He might as well do this before his dad came home from work.

Kodya fidgeted with his thumbs, unable to keep himself still in his seat, his nerves beginning to fray.

Gyrus must have noticed his unease.

“You sure you don’t want to stay another day at my place? Y’know my parents love having you over,” Gyrus asked, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. 

Kodya bit his lip. In complete honesty, there was nothing more that he wanted than to stay at Gyrus’s place but he was vividly aware that prolonging his return home would make the inevitable event even more unpleasant.

“No, no, it’s fine. I really don’t want to be a burden. Besides, my mom doesn’t like it when I stay over,” Kodya responded, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Gyrus nodded and Kodya caught an unidentifiable emotion flicker on his face before he returned to his usual cheerfulness. He took the turn into Kodya’s road.

“Alright then, this is your stop.”

He stopped the car neatly in Kodya’s driveway before unlocking the doors. The light from the house filtered through the window curtains, illuminating the greenery in his front lawn. Kodya shot Gyrus a grateful smile and Gyrus grinned back. A flush crept up his neck.

He would never admit to the things that smile did to him.

“Thanks alot, Gyrus,” he said, letting out a breath as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“No problem, man. I’ll always be there for you, Kodya,” Gyrus responded and Kodya didn’t miss the heavy emphasis on the last sentence—how firm and unwavering Gyrus’s tone had become.

Kodya swallowed down the lump in his throat, ignored the flare of heat across his cheeks.

“Whatever you say.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He leaned into her palm. She smoothed his hair back with her other hand, the touch intimate and mother-like.

“Where have you been, Kodya? You had me worried sick all day,” his mother murmured, sad eyes locking onto his and Kodya let the wave of guilt crash over his head.

“Sorry, mom, something came up.”

She tutted, clearly not satisfied with his vague answer. Kodya grimaced, unable to blame her.

“Where did this bruise come from? Did you get into a fight again?”

“Oh, uh, I—” His mom fixed him with a hard stare, her palm left his cheek and, at that instant, Kodya felt strongly compelled not to lie.

“Yeah I did,” he admitted, recoiling slightly at his mother’s harsh intake of air, “at school.”

“Where did you go after?”

There was a beat of telling silence, the expression on her face grew murkier. But Kodya couldn’t answer straight away. His breath hitched, reminded of bloody carnations and copious, horrible guilt. He remembered vivid, purple eyes and how sorrow-filled they were that entire night.

“I went to Gyrus’s. He let me stay over,” he replied, stifling the unpleasant memories back down the depths of his mind.

The room grew cold at the mention of Gyrus’s name. Kodya wiped his palm on his sweater, uncomfortable with how clammy they had become. He couldn’t meet her gaze. It was as if all the warmth had been sucked out of his mother’s eyes and replaced with loathing. 

His shoulders tensed, he was unsure how his mother would react to the information.

Apparently not well.

“Again?” The distaste in her voice was evident. Kodya felt the familiar burn of anger lurking dangerously in his chest. An unusual burst of confidence swarmed his body and he found his voice.

“Yeah, he’s a real good friend, y’know?” he spat out with more venom than intended. He grimaced at his own tone.

“Kodya, I thought this phase of yours was over. You know how your father and I feel about it.”

He groaned, exasperated at her probing assumptions. Since when was being gay a phase?

“Mom! It wasn’t like that!”

“Well, what was it like then?” she hissed back with an equal amount of bite.

“He’s just my friend! He was just comforting me like all friends do!”

“Comforting you from what exactly?”

She looked furious and Kodya felt a sick sense of glee in her displeasure. He almost had the mind to be disgusted with himself at that moment.

“My fucking ex- _boy_ friend.” The lie flew out of his mouth purely out of spite. Maybe it was a self-destructive part of himself or maybe he’d finally snapped from all of their bullshit but he wanted to see how much he could disappoint her, how livid she could get from the mention of his taste in men.

She gasped, holding her chest and taking a step back as if Kodya had struck her there. He rolled his eyes. 

She regained her composure, pinning Kodya with an icy glare and he stood his ground, staring back with as much venom.

“We’re family, why can’t you act normally for our sake?”

Her words were like wood chips to a fire, fuelling his anger until it erupted out of him in a blaze of contempt and sharp, cutting sentences.

“Because I wouldn’t be normal! Because I would be living my life as a lie! This _is_ the normal me, mom. Why can’t you just realize? Who I choose to love is a part of who I am and if you guys won’t accept that,” he stopped to draw in a shaky breath, his hands trembling as fists by his side, “then you people aren’t my family.”

She looked stricken and Kodya stopped, wondering if he had taken things too far. 

His mother truly loved him even if she had a hard time showing it sometimes. Kodya knew of the suffocating household she grew up in, of traditions that have long embedded themselves into her beliefs and character. He knew that the part of her that so vehemently hated Kodya’s sexuality was a result of her upbringing. She wanted to protect him, protect him from wandering eyes and biting rumours. 

And she did it the only way she knew how to, the way she was reprimanded as a child—through cutting words and ruthless accusations.

He opened his mouth to apologize, to take back his words before a bright, flashing heat erupted across his cheek and he stumbled back, mostly out of shock. He cradled his cheek, the skin already throbbing and hot.

_Holy shit._

Kodya was brought back years, when his father stood in front of him—hands shaking and mouth spitting. He screamed at him, yanked at his limbs and Kodya could only stand motionless, horribly afraid. It reminded Kodya of a rabid dog. 

That had been the last night he hit him. His mother, full of fury and vigilance, pulled his dad back and shoved him into their bedroom before slamming the door shut behind them. There was yelling that night—an argument that bled through the walls—he had never seen his mother so furious. 

_What the actual fuck._

The feeling of utter betrayal flooded his senses, his eyes watering and overflowing before he could wipe them away. 

His mother stood still as a statue in front of him. She looked pale.

“You...,” Kodya choked out, his voice shaky, his eyes never leaving her person. Regret immediately filled her features, “you fucking hit me.”

She brought her hand to her mouth as if she was shocked by her own actions and, for some unknown reason, that seemed to irk Kodya even more.

“Kodya, honey, I am _so_ sorry.”

She reached her hand out for him. The movement snapped him out of his daze and he violently recoiled back as if her touch were a hot iron rod. He stared at her, disbelieving, before wordlessly walking to the front door.

“Wait, Kodya, please wait,” she begged, remorse filling her voice and Kodya almost felt bad.

Almost.

He didn’t turn around. Kodya forced the words out through gritted teeth, trying to reign in his temper before he said something he would later regret,

“I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Kodya stepped out onto the porch—eager to be anywhere but in his house—and immediately did a double take.

“Why are you still here.”

Gyrus shrugged, pushing himself effortlessly up the brick wall he had been sitting against.

“Had a bad feeling.” Gyrus pointedly stared at Kodya’s cheek, the red imprint sticking out like a sore thumb. “It seems like it was the right call.”

Kodya swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry.

“How much of that did you hear?”

Gyrus hadn’t looked taken aback as if he had been expecting the question. He had an eerie calmness to him and Kodya couldn’t help but feel a bit unsettled. His eyes were piercing—searching even—and Kodya could barely suppress the shiver it sent throughout his body.

Kodya held his ground though he couldn’t find the reasoning behind it. Why did he feel so tense in front of Gyrus? It’s not like there was anything about Kodya’s life he hadn’t already suspect or know.

“More than enough,” Gyrus replied, his voice selectively even.

He walked up to Kodya and took his hand. It took everything in his willpower not to flinch. They were still in front of his house, Kodya’s parents could just glance out the window and _see_.

Gyrus seemed to sense his unease, tugging him farther down the street where he had parked his car under the shade of a large oak tree.

He let go of Kodya’s hand and made his way to the driver’s side of the vehicle, opening the door and slipping in. Kodya stood outside, befuddled and motionless. Gyrus raised his eyebrow through the car window and waved his hand, motioning for Kodya to join him.

He rolled down the window.

“Get in while the sun’s still up, I wanna take you somewhere.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

He fell asleep in Gyrus’s car.

The absent rock of the vehicle and Gyrus’s idle humming, paired with Kodya’s recently chaotic sleep schedule, were enough to knock him from his reality into a distant, hazy memory.

  
  


“Do you think God lets fags into heaven?” Kodya slurred as Gyrus gathered his limbs from the ground before gently placing him onto his bed. 

Kodya had slipped into a bar earlier with a couple of his track friends with the intention of drinking his problems away and getting completely hammered. He had an inkling that the bar owner didn’t really care about their age so much that they were willing to empty their pockets. After a small breakdown and a sloppy alley blowjob, he had stumbled his way to Gyrus’s house—more out of habit than common sense. He knew he reeked of alcohol, knew it from the unpleasant scrunch Gyrus’s face made when he brushed too close to Kodya’s mouth.

Gyrus froze, his face unreadable, before letting out a contemplative hum. He sat down tentatively next to Kodya’s head. 

Kodya planted the side of his head against the plush of Gyrus’s thigh almost instinctively. Gyrus’s hand immediately went to rest against the top of his head. 

Kodya took note of the warm feeling that spread through his chest.

“I didn’t know you were religious.”

Kodya nodded, the action sending an unpleasant wave of nausea over him. He swallowed down the rising bile before answering.

“‘m not but my parents are.”

Gyrus seemed to understand. He always did.

“I can’t say for sure but I’d hope not,” Gyrus begins after a moment of thoughtful silence, “I mean, if there was some omnipotent entity capable of creating each and every one of us—they wouldn’t have made something like being gay a mistake right? How could that explain the multitudes of sexualities, the fact that a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman has been universally documented in nearly every part of the world— _hell_ —even across different species of animals? None of this could be a mistake.”

He hummed to himself, seemingly satisfied with his own answer and Kodya let his eyes slip close, his head in that current state was incapable of dwelling on Gryus’s words. He felt his body being shuffled around, his limbs arranged neatly to his side. A blanket was tucked around him and there was a warmth hovering above his face, strands of what felt like hair tickling his cheeks. Kodya could barely register the warm lips that pressed gently against his forehead before the world plunged into the dark.

  
  


Kodya wakes up with petals on his clothes and a name on his lips.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“Do you remember this place?”

The stream was lively with small, nimble fish that populated the streams, the current gentle yet the sound of flowing water filled the air among bird trills and the rustle wind through the leaves. The air smelt cleaner than it did in the city, rid smog and sewage. The looming trees casted vivid shadows on the ground, their bright leaves swaying to the slightest breeze. The scene reminded Kodya of the covers of those camping magazines at that convenience store around the corner. His chest clenched almost painfully with the wistful pang of nostalgia and Kodya smiled.

How could he ever forget?

“It’s the same spot your family took us camping when we were—” Kodya stopped to think, “I want to say nine.”

Gyrus grinned—ever so dazzling and bright—and Kodya felt himself doing the same. After all, Gyrus’s smiles were the very definition of contagious. 

“Bingo! Right on.”

Kodya rolled his eyes, exasperated but fond nevertheless.

Gyrus tugged at the fabric of Kodya’s jacket, leading him to the edge of the stream. He took off his own shoes and Kodya quickly followed suit, slipping off his socks before taking a seat on the mossy rock. 

They dipped their feet into the cool water, the fish scurrying away at the action. Kodya planted his hands on the bed of moss, kicking his feet and splashing droplets of water onto his pants. All of his problems—his house—seemed so far away from him right there, right then. Kodya let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, the neverending tension in his body finally easing out of his muscles. 

They sat in the placating silence and, for a moment, Kodya felt at ease. 

“Isn’t this just wonderful? Being outside of the cities, away from school and everyone else. It’s just you and me here and there’s something so nice about that—about the fact that no one could possibly bother us out here—I just don’t know what.”

Kodya nodded, feeling the exact same way. 

Gyrus hummed, content, the casual smile on his face morphing into something more… malicious. “You know what would be pretty fun right now?”

His hand waved dangerously close to the water.

Kodya stilled, his blood running cold.

“Gyrus, don’t you fucking dar—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence before a splash of icy water was sent towards his face. Kodya sputtered, wiping his face with his sleeves.

_That little shit._

He wordlessly took off his jacket, shucking it towards a drier part of the bank before pinning Gyrus with what he hoped was a murderous glare.

Gyrus grinned, playful and cocky.

The next few minutes were a flurry of limbs, elated screams and icy, icy water. Their hollar broke through the air, the stream was no longer so peaceful as the two boys chased each other around. Kodya was shivering when they stopped, finally having wrestled Gyrus into a headlock.

He slapped at Kodya’s arm, Kodya would’ve let him go if he wasn’t laughing so maniacally.

“I forfeit! I forfeit!”

Kodya giggled, his chest was light, his breath heavy out of exertion yet Kodya had never felt so full of energy—he felt _happy._

“Fucking good!” 

He eventually relented, letting go of Gyrus who immediately shoved him playfully. 

Gyrus was absolutely drenched, muffling his own boisterous laughter with his hand. His green hair clung to his forehead, droplets of water running down the length of his jaw and body. Gyrus’s eyes were sparkling with mirth, his clothes clung onto the outline of his body.

Kodya’s mouth was suddenly very dry, an inevitable, hot itch clambered up his throat.

He looked so beautiful, so much like himself— _like Gyrus_ —that Kodya couldn’t suppress the petal that slipped out of his mouth. 

Gyrus caught it before it fluttered onto the surface of the water. 

Kodya froze.

_Oh shit._

The casual smile slipped off his face, Gyrus grimaced and Kodya swallowed down the petals that crawled up his throat.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Kodya.”

His good mood immediately soured.

“About what?” he asked innocently, hoping Gyrus would take the hint to change the subject.

Unfortunately, he did not.

“Kodya,” Gyrus said with a sigh, annoyed with his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Gyrus,” he replied with an equal amount of exasperation.

“Who is it, Kodya?”

Kodya bit his lip, silently cursing at Gyrus’s moral persistence, at how good of a person he was.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Kodya, there’s nothing you can say to me that’ll chase me away. You know I won’t judge you,” he reassured, his eyes wide and earnest. 

“You will, Gyrus, you will this time.” Kodya looked away, nervously picking at the fraying end of his shirt. “You just have to trust me on this.”

Gyrus was unrelenting and Kodya honestly didn’t expect him to stop pressing.

“Kodya, _please_. I won’t, I won’t, I promise I won’t. Why can’t you tell me?”

He took his hand and Kodya flinched violently. He looked up and immediately regretted it. Gyrus’s face was an open book—the depth of his care and concern written in his expression—and Kodya felt his heart tear itself apart with a single glance. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve _Gyrus_. There was a horrible burn in his throat, the secret ripping itself out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Kodya exploded.

“Because it’s you! Damn it, it’s always been you! Christ, Gyrus, can’t you see? I couldn’t tell you because someone like you won’t ever fall in love with someone lik—”

In his fit of passion, Kodya hadn’t been careful of where he stepped. His foot caught the side of a particularly slippery, algae-coated rock and he lost his balance. Gyrus called out. 

Kodya fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! This chapter sure came out earlier than I expected :))! Please let me know what you think of it <333


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally at the end, guys :))

Falling. The feeling of exhilaration, of weightlessness. 

Then there was an explosion of warmth—another body embracing him.

Gyrus caught the back of his head before it hit the rock, the icy water biting at both their bodies and stopping short at Kodya’s chin.

His legs were planted on either side of Kodya’s thighs, his chest hovering directly above Kodya’s—so close that Kodya could feel his body heat. Gyrus’s forearm was planted next to his head while his face lingered inches above Kodya’s. It was silent for a moment, save for the sound of running water and the distant chirp of birds.

Gyrus cleared his throat.

“Well then,” Gyrus murmured, swallowing with some difficulty and Kodya watched his Adam's apple bob.

Blood rushed to his face.

“Kodya, is—” Gyrus stopped and bit his lip. He seemed pained—maybe even anxious—as if he was afraid of his own voice, “is that really true?”

Kodya stared at the sky, looking at anywhere _but_ Gyrus. He couldn’t deny it—the hole he dug was too deep.

“Why would I lie?” he whispered, his voice cracking just a little. Kodya felt like the very definition of vulnerable. It was as if he had been stripped of skin and bone, leaving just his insides for the world to see—for _Gyrus_ to see. 

He felt like he was going to throw up a mountain of carnations. 

There was a burn in his throat, an itch that he couldn’t contain. Kodya coughed a couple of stray petals into Gyrus’s face who stayed unmoving on top of him. 

_Oh fuck, shit, fuck, not now._

Kodya cleared his throat—though it came out more as a muffled, hacking cough—and swallowed down whatever petals unlodged themselves from the walls of his esophagus. A bitter, floral taste filled his mouth and he almost gagged. When Kodya finished, Gyrus hadn’t moved from his position, instead choosing to watch Kodya with an odd, undecipherable look on his face. 

Kodya winced, trying his best to reign in the flush that threatened to cover the entirety of his face. 

Finally—incapable of staying still within the suffocating silence—Kodya shifted, attempting to dislodge himself from under Gyrus. The man on top of him, however, refused to budge. 

“Um, Gyrus?” Kodya began after a few seconds of brutal silence.

“Hm?” It sounded absent, Gyrus’s eyes looked distant as if he wasn’t quite mentally rooted in the situation at hand. 

_Is he… is he zoning out?_

“Could you—” he coughed out a delicate, green petal, “could you say something? Anything?”

Gyrus’s breath caught in his throat and Kodya tensed up, shutting his eyes and preparing for the backlash—the rejection, the pain.

But it never came.

Gyrus tightened his grip on the back of Kodya’s hair, his fingers entangling with the wet strands. His touch was shaking, almost convulsive.

“You love me?” he questioned, more to himself than to the man underneath him. Then Gyrus sounded as if he were coming out of a daze, the initial low drag of his voice becoming something _more_ as it heightened with emotion. “You _love_ me.”

Gyrus let out a breath—the warm air blowing against Kodya’s face—and Kodya wondered if it was out of astonishment or terror.

He sincerely hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“You love me, you love me— _Kodya_ loves me,” Gyrus repeated the words as if they were a prayer. He let out a breathless laugh, almost unbelieving, before his chest made contact with Kodya’s wet clothes, his limbs clinging more desperately onto the man underneath him. It could only be considered the most awkward of hugs but it was a hug nonetheless.

Kodya could hear his own heartbeat. His chest constricted and it felt like the air was refusing to fill his lungs. Gyrus’s voice was getting louder and louder like a rising crescendo—

—until finally,

“Kodya loves me and I love him.”

Kodya froze. Time seemed to stop.

“I love him so very much.”

He finally focused his eyes on Gyrus who was grinning to no abandon. The sun gleamed behind Gyrus’s head and, although it blinded Kodya somewhat, the golden rays accented Gyrus’s face and made the strands of his hair appear lighter and softer. Gyrus’s eyes were bright and, for a moment in time, Kodya was completely entranced. 

Gyrus bent his neck down, his lips brushing against the shell of Kodya’s ear. His breath was fire against Kodya’s cold skin.

Kodya couldn’t breathe but his throat no longer burned, there was no presence expanding in his esophagus. The carnations were absent, yet he still felt breathless, as if someone had taken a vacuum to his lungs.

“After all, who better to fall in love with than your best friend?”

There was an insistent burn in Kodya’s eyes and he snapped out of it, disbelieving.

“No— _no fucking way_ —you can’t be inlove with me.”

Gyrus pulled back, his eyebrow arched perfectly. Then a grin broke out throughout his face, cocky and teasing and completely Gyrus-like.

“Why not? You don’t get to decide whether or not I love you, Kodya.”

“No, no, you’re not, you’re not,” he insisted before he could stop himself, his voice breaking as his sentence came to a halting end. Kodya sounded manic and cynical as if he were on the crisp of a breakdown.

And he most definitely was.

“I love you.”

Gyrus’s voice was firm and unwavering. Kodya choked back a helpless sob.

“It’s gotta be some pretty rotten love then.”

Gyrus shook his head frantically.

“No, _never_ , not from me,” Gyrus stated, solid as fact and Kodya’s world came crashing down.

He didn’t know when he started crying, only registering the waterworks when the warm tears trailed against his icy skin. Kodya bit his lip, stifling the denial and apprehension that wanted to claw out of his throat. Something dripped against his cheeks and Kodya looked up to find that Gyrus had started crying too.

Kodya fought the compulsion to comfort him and Gyrus continued,

“I love you, Kodya, I love you. I’ve loved you as a friend and I’ve loved you as something more for years. At one point, they kind of just became the same thing.” Gyrus let out a breathless chuckle before continuing, “You’re funny, you’re brave, you’re selfless—you are amazing and _so_ fucking strong. You are so much better than you think, you are worthy of love no matter what anyone says.”

Gyrus took a moment to pause as if he were overwhelmed by his own emotions. His ears were a bright pink and Kodya reached out to touch one.

“You, Kodya Karevic, have sent me spiralling throughout a horribly annoying but unceasingly amusing path in life and you _better_ believe me when I say,” he stopped for a short moment and stared at Kodya. Gyrus’s eyes softened more than he thought capable, portraying endless amounts of adoration through vivid, lavender eyes. Kodya’s breath stuttered, “I love you, you little shit.”

Gyrus kissed him and it was the most glorious thing that Kodya had ever experienced. Warmth exploded throughout his body and he could no longer feel the icy bite of the water around them.

For a moment he lay limp as Gyrus’s insistent lips pressed against his own until Gyrus tugged at the messy, black strands of his hair and—like a fire to gasoline-doused timber—he came to life.

It was unlike any of the kissing he had done before. It felt like the world collapsed around them, like Kodya had been floating aimlessly before but now he was grounded by hot breaths and slick, warm mouths. There was a juvenile flutter in his stomach, sparks that he hadn’t experienced in a long time reignited themselves in his chest. Kodya gasped pleasantly and Gyrus took that as an opportunity to explore his mouth. 

The exchange of saliva definitely became more efficient afterwards.

They stopped when the heat of the kiss began to direct themselves at _other_ parts of their bodies. Kodya reluctantly parted from the hot, open-mouthed kisses—much to Gyrus’s displeasure.

Gyrus stood up, offering Kodya a hand before pulling him flush against his body. He wrapped his arms around Kodya, enveloping him in a proper hug.

Kodya squeezed him back.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Kodya said, breathless and a little bit lost.

“We’ll figure it out together.” Gyrus seemed to contemplate before adding, “I’m here. With you. Forever. You can’t get rid of me now that you’ve accepted me into your life.”

Kodya giggled and sobbed. It sounded like choked, hiccuping laughter. He couldn’t see Gyrus through the blur of his tears but he knew Gyrus was grinning, unabashed. 

“Oh, God, Gyrus,” he cried and Gyrus nuzzled his face against the crook of Kodya’s neck, “I love you, I love you. I love you and you somehow love me back. Oh my _God_.”

He whispered it as if it were a chant, mumbling the words under his breath until Gyrus lifted his head, giving Kodya a loving smile—and he would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat—before pressing his lips against Kodya’s once more.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Things begin to change.

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


He wakes up in Gyrus’s bed. There is sunlight streaming in past the blinds and the distant singing of birds passing in through the open window. He spends the next few days recovering, rebuilding—he spends them carnation-less. 

And Kodya _feels_. He feels joy, he feels cherished, he feels loved.

Of course, grief and anger still bubble up in his chest now and they are more so absent where they used to be constant and overwhelming. Kodya can’t help but wonder if this is how the majority of the people around him feel all the time. If so, he could really get used to it.

And Gyrus didn’t lie, Kodya takes every step with him by his side. They figure everything out together.

When Kodya finally comes home—Gyrus hovering waringly by the door—his family cries. His mother approaches him first, throwing herself at Kodya and holding him tight, apologies and endearments spilling out of her lips. Then his father, usually stoic and distant, emerges from the kitchen and Kodya can’t help but tense up. 

Until he sees his red-rimmed eyes and Kodya realizes this is the first time he’s seen him cry. 

It is raw and grief is potent in the air when Kodya breaks down as well, the entire Karevic household holding onto each other and sharing tears and long-withheld confessions.

It takes a while to unravel the carnage, to begin to rebuild their foundation but they all stick around to make it happen. Family is worth it after all.

But that doesn’t stop them from being apprehensive at first, wary everytime Gyrus embraces Kodya—everytime they see the pair standing too close for their comfort. They’re just about to voice their disapproval until they see the light in Kodya’s eyes, the smile that constantly graces his face whenever Gyrus is around and they realize that he’s the happiest he’s ever been.

They don’t like it but they learn to accept it. 

Kodya is nervous when Gyrus drags him over to their table in the cafeteria.

They all stop their chatter for a moment, staring at Kodya and the possessive arm Gyrus snakes around his waist. The clamor of the cafetaria sounds distant to his ears, it’s too quiet, Kodya can feel himself sweating. Tori is the first to let out a loud _Finally!_

Then they burst into smiles and congratulations.

Nephthys smiles a little too knowingly and Kodya scratches at his nape sheepishly. Tori pats Gyrus on the back and he stumbles forward from the force of it. Sylvia snaps photos of them together throughout the lunch period when she thinks they aren’t looking. The rest of the gang are friendly albeit a little awkward to the change (especially Ragan who was admittedly happy for the two but she was quite known for her lackluster ability to appropriately express emotion).

They all shuffle back into their old routines but everything is better this time around.

Everything seems to fix itself in a matter of weeks. The carnations are now another one of Kodya’s distant memories.

“What are you thinking about?” Gyrus’s voice pulls Kodya out of his thoughts. He sits down on the grass and plasters himself against Kodya’s side. Together, they briefly observe the school’s track from the comfort of an oak tree’s shadow.

A smile tugs at the corners of Kodya’s lips when Gyrus positions himself in front of his knees, a childish pout evident on his face.

“Nothing really,” Kodya finally answers. He catches the mischievous glint in Gyrus’s eye before he finds himself with his shoulders back pinned against the bark of the tree, a hand cupping and tilting his jaw upwards.

“Hm, how about I give you something to think about?” Gyrus asks, a little too cheeky for his own good.

Kodya plays along, his heart hammering with excitement. Gyrus’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips and Kodya watches, completely entranced.

“Please do.”

He doesn’t waste any time stalling.

Gyrus’s lips tease against his own and Kodya moans a little, delighted by the feeling. He wraps his arms around Gyrus’s neck, pulling them further into the kiss. His heart is content and full, he couldn’t possibly wish for anything more. There is a low whistle from someone somewhere around them but Kodya doesn’t find it in himself to care because Gyrus is with him and Gyrus is intoxicating.

Kodya feels so happy because Gyrus is finally here with him and he will be with him, by his side, forever. 

This is their present—their future—and nothing could be more perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was quite a trip!! I hope you all enjoyed the fic :))), I'll definitely be writing more for this fandom <333

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so obsessed with Kodya, it's a problem.


End file.
